Diary of a Madman's Son
by thecat-and-thefiddle
Summary: Set sort of AU, the bride of Seymour buys their son a journal. His thoughts on everything are written down, from his mother to his father to his maid and beyond. Quite comical in some parts, romance in others.
1. Chapter 1

Hey, guys. 'tis me again. I know I haven't been updating lately, but I've lost inspiration for a lot of my stories, mainly because I haven't had anyone to help me with getting the inspiration. It's a very hard task to throw bricks at your own head, ya' know! OH, btw, I'm finally playing FFX thanks to Xena who let me borrow it! I also have FF7 now, so don't be suprised if I suddenly pop up a story for that one.. I saw Advent Children a while ago, and it was GODLY AWESOME! Anyhow, this is basically something I wrote through the eyes of a new RP character I've created. Have fun! REVIEW, CURSE YEW!

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Diary of a Madman's Son

11/13

Well, Mother, in all her crazy psychotic splendor, bought me a journal for my seventh birthday, a.k.a. today. I really was not excited about it, and I am still not, but Father has challenged me to record the happenings of the day for a month, and then if I don't like it by then, I don't have to do it.

That is one of the many things I love about my parents- they always allow me to do whatever I want, though sometimes it's usually because of a bargain we've made, a trade, or some such.

Something I do hate about them, though… they are way too perfect for each other! I mean, come on! Other parents fight over SOMETHING now and then, but with these two, there's hardly ANYTHING they differ in views with! Except religion… I think that is about the only thing they cannot seem to have a friendly discussion about.

Come to think of it, that's the only time they ever do anything anyone can classify as "fighting," and it's only when they talk about the Teachings. Father's one of the Maesters of Yevon and Mother… well… she might as well be Al-Bhed. She literally HATES the religion of which the man she married practically rules over. I have yet to figure out why she detests it, but then again, she knows more about it than I do, and surprisingly enough, she knows more than Father, which he himself has admitted.

When I asked him about it, he told me, "When I was studying to take my father's place as Maester, I often grew weary of the endless texts and teachings and lessons and everything, and as encouragement, your mother started studying with me, saying that if she did, I would have to. She found a bunch of stuff she didn't understand, so every time she saw Father or another Maester, or even a Summoner, she would take them aside and sit down with them, endlessly asking questions and demanding explanations so she's acquired a more in-depth understanding."

It's odd, though. They never talk about religion with in the presence of each other unless I ask a question about it at the dinner table, which I usually don't do; the results are always Mother running to their room and locking Father out, who never goes that direction anyhow, but the opposite direction and either ends up at the Temple, or just wandering around outside. I hate it when it happens. Not only does it scare me to see Mother cry, and Father raise his hand to strike her, only to be stopped by his overwhelming love for the woman, but also my pleading, but it also leaves me in the care of frail ole' Jyscal. That man drives me insane! The only use I personally have for him is that he gets me things I can't reach at night, when I'm too scared to ask Mother or Father for- odd noises sometimes come from their door after I go to bed, especially after a fight. Different noises arise after they have a date, but they are still as scary as the first.

Mother just came in and blew out my candle. That's her way of telling me to go to bed. I think I will do just that.

'Till next time…

-_Reiko Guado_

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Let's have a sing along! Ready!

If you liked it and you know it,  
Click "Review!"  
click click!  
If you liked it and you know it,  
Type one up!  
type type!  
If you liked it and you know it, and you really wanna show it,  
If you want to keep your brains,  
Send me one!  
load, cock, aim!

Gotta give me credit for that one... that was made up in... looks at watch ...two minutes!


	2. Chapter 2

Second chapter in the same five minutes! Wh--t! Anyhow... I don't really think this has a plot or anything. It's just me looking at his life and kinda my life and... I don't know... REVIEW, SUNAMAGUNNIES!

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Diary of a Madman's Son

11/14

Not much has gone on today.

Mother played her violin for hours on end, starting nigh sunrise and kept playing until Father took her four-string away from her and the swiftly bleeding fingers that held the instrument so carefully and expertly.

I'm not too worried about it. It's not the first time it's ever happened. She does it quite often, actually, or often enough to make it seem like it's a regular occurrence. Actually, I've noticed since Jyscal pointed out, she only seems to do it yearly, though three different days during the year. Nobody seems to know why, exactly, except Father, who won't tell either of us.

Jyscal theorizes it's her way of expressing deep grief over the loss of her parents, Father's parents, and a friend or two that she's had. I'm not so sure about that, but it does seem to make sense.

Every time Mother plays, it's either some quick-moving waltz, driving tango, hypnotic lullaby, or some altered, spruced up version of the all-famous Hymn. I love listening to her play, though she does put herself in an immense amount of pain over it, though it doesn't seem to bother her until about her tenth hour of strait playtime.

I'm not quite sure how Father feels about it. I only know that when she plays, he stands a short way away from her and watches her intently, always poised as if something bad is going to happen to her. Jyscal tells me that when Mother becomes too emotional about something, be it joy, sadness, depression, or some other like that, she tends to faint and have seizures due to some head injury inflicted by her abusive parents when she was a child. That may be what Father is waiting for- her to fall. He loves her so much to let her hit the ground. Romantic much?

Mother plays again, though it's a bit off-key since her fingers are bandaged. She hates to let Father "cure" her, so he doesn't unless it's a dire emergency, like that time she had a seizure in the middle of a fight and the fiend she was battling inflicted a mortal wound to her chest. Father healed her until he could heal her no more, despite her barking demands for him to leave her be and such.

Speaking of Father, I can hear him now, taking her instrument away and forcing her to the bedroom for the much-needed rest her body screams for, as can be seen just by looking at her form that has held that playing position all day. She won't take sleep. She doesn't need it, as she screams at him. There's a crash- most likely her leaping on Father as he tries to put the violin back in its case and him retaliating by catching her against one arm and flinging her into his armchair. She's so much smaller than him…

It's suddenly become quiet out there.

Father just bode me goodnight. Mother sleeps in his arms, and I can tell she's been spelled to sleep… Father and his magic… that's fine, though. He would never do anything to hurt her while she was under his power.

He's telling me it's time for bed, but gave me permission to finish this first. Either Father is vehemently strong, or Mother is feather light, because he just shifted her to one arm and hugged me around the shoulders, as he does most of the time.

I suppose it's to bed with me, now…

-Again and always, _Reiko Guado_


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, guys... I just realised something while writing this chapter... every "Jyscal" from this chapter backwards was supposed to be "Trommel," and thanks to Alex for pointing it out and J.D. for smashing it in my face... I will kill you... yes, you Uncle John...

Anyhow, review!

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Diary of a Madman's Son

11/15

Mother woke me up this morning earlier than sunrise playing Carmen on her four-string. She's amazing, really, with her bow and fiddle, and her voice is angelic especially on the opera part. Thankfully, she wasn't in a big play-forever-and-a-day mood, but she was in a happy hyperactive state of mind. She was playing so loud that Father, all the way over at the temple, sent over a messenger to tell her to, "...lay off the forteissississississimo." He had heard her several yards away from our house, but nothing beyond that. He only sent the messenger because he knew she'd still be playing.

He leaves too early. I only get to see him at night and sometimes when he doesn't have to be there. I wish I could spend more time with him…

We look a lot alike, Father and I… I have his hair, claws and stature, as well as the funny vein-like marks over our eye, but I only have one on the left side of my face. I also keep my hair back in a ponytail, but that annoying little strip of bangs that keeps hanging in my face… Mother's quite entertained by it, but more entertained by Father's, who doesn't have a problem with her suddenly leaping into his lap and batting at it like a little kitten. I think he enjoys that, actually, especially when he captures her around the lower chest and shoulder and holds her to himself like a giant teddy bear, resting his forehead against her cheek and kissing and suckling at her throat. I think she likes that kind of affection from him, because every time his sharp Guado teeth rake across her sensitive human neck, she shivers and giggles, rubbing his head and stroking his hair.

Today, after one of these bouts, I asked Father if the stories Trommel told me were true, especially the one about him marrying a Summoner before Mother. He took me aside and showed me book he had. It was full of letters he had written, copies, he told me, of ones he sent to Mother. Between each page was a folded up, perfumed piece with different, feminine writing on it- the replies.

Apparently, as the story goes, Grandfather Jyscal sent Mother, an orphan he allowed to inhabit the guest room, away to a different place for his own reasons. Father had been told that Airella, my mother, with her different views on Yevon was a danger to his studies and it was "risky business keeping her around," or so he said.

As young teenagers, best friends since Mother came to the home of Jyscal Guado, half dead from starvation and being beaten by her parents, the two tried everything they could to keep in touch, and apparently they've done a good job of it. I was allowed to borrow a few notes and copy them in here, so here we go:

_Airella,_

_Greetings again. I hope you're faring well where you are. Father has limited me to a few letters a year, possibly one a month, so pardon the length between hearings from me. In your last letter to me, you mentioned something about contracting a sickness. What is it? Where did it come from? Is there a cure, or medicine, for it? Will you be okay? Excuse my questioning, but I want to know what is going on with my best friend. The parents think they can keep us apart, but little do they know…There are Summoners passing through here each and every day, almost, so even if I'm not allowed to use the postal service, I can at least have one of them toss it by your house on their way to fight Sin. They literally pass by your house, anyhow. Please, write back as soon as you possibly can. Be strong._

_-S.G._

The next letter is dated almost a week after.

_Dear Seymour_

_Hey. Yeah, I'm doing well. The people I'm staying with are nice enough, though we are constantly arguing about the teachings. They keep trying to change my mind about it, but I know it's nothing more than a crap load of… well…crap…Whatever. I don't care. When Pappi (Reiko's note: this is what Mother uses to refer to Grandfather) steps down and turns the title of Maester over to you, I doubt it will take you long to make it to the top. You're a great, awesome young man with exceptional leadership skills and a very charismatic way of doing things. I can't wait for your rule! It's going to be awesome! Just call me to be your "maestress" and we'll make it the best dynasty ever. You asked about my sickness… I know not the name of it, and I've been told there isn't any cure for it. It hurts like all hell…as an analogy, think of being hugged by a creature the size of Bahamut, the strength of Sin, and the flame of Ifrit and you have a slight understanding of it. It comes and goes, but has been coming more than going lately. It hurts. It's brought me several epiphanies, though… like… death. You know I feared it before, but… lately I've found myself praying for it. Yes, Seymour, praying. Imagine… me? In a temple of Yevon, praying to past High Summoners and even Yevon himself to end my life. You see, Seymour, life is pretty much just pain and suffering and more pain and more suffering. Death, as a defined term, is the end of life, thus the end of the pain and suffering and the pain and suffering that brings. I haven't had this sickness for just a short time, but I contracted it when father…whatever… it was a long time ago, even though recently it's been becoming more and more frequent and more and more painful with each attack. I can't breathe during these spells of hurt. My chest collapses on itself, or so it feels, and my heart seems to stop pumping blood and my nervous system seems to stab itself repeatedly and repeatedly. Well, I suppose I shall speak to you later, friend. _

_-Airella_

Father kept the letters from this point to the next from me, saying they were personal and between him and Mother, and not to be shared with me. Insulted as I am, I'm also grateful that I've gotten what I have now. The gap between the previous letter and this one is, so I'm told, three years.

_Airella, my dearest love…_

_Forgive me. I know you wish for me to completely give up this idea that I've got, and I know you wish for me to repent for killing father and I know you want me to come and claim you as my own, my wife, and my bride forever and ever, but… life sucks and things just aren't always fair, you know? You of all people should. Let me explain myself, please. The Lady Summoner Yuna- I've proposed to her. Airella, I love you deeply and with the greatest portion of my heart, but listen to me! Do not put this down! Read it thoroughly! Please, for me. It will all make sense in the end, I promise. I didn't marry for love, only for power. She's a Summoner, and as you've found out through your countless outrageously deep hours of study on the subject, you know that the Final Aeon of every Summoner to face Sin becomes Sin. Sin destroys and brings death to all. You yourself said that death was a release from pain and suffering._

_I wish to end what pain and suffering you are going through. I want you alive by my side, wearing the garnet- and opal-set pewter ring you've always dreamed of and wielding the Guado surname passed to me by my father and his father before him, and on and on down the line, but more than that, I want to see you out of the world of hurt in which you live continuously. I love you! That is why I am doing this. My darling, I have dreamed of nothing more than holding you in my arms and claiming your lips as mine since you expressed the love for me you were afraid to show last spring, and in return, I showed the love that I was withholding, frightened as to how you would react over it. However, for your sake, I will take this woman in my possession and come to your rescue. _

_I know it will make you feel better to know the only way I can even touch her is to imagine you in her place, with your soft, silky hair that, as you say, has not seen the sight of scissors since we were parted. I bet it's so long now… flowing over your back like a cascade of chocolate. Your hazel eyes, though clouded over with tears of anguish are burning brightly with resolve and hope for a brighter day where your body will not be racked with the inferno housed in your skin and nerves. _

_I bring that day, Airella. I bring it for you and none else. For the very love of my life, I will become the next Sin- the next destroyer of life, bringer of Death, ender of Misery, Sorrow, Pain, and Suffering. I will become the next Sin and deliver you from the torture that is your life. _

_Don't write back, my love, for I will not receive it. Just hold this note close to your heart, and don't let it go for the world. Your savior and betrothed is on his way to bring you from torment into happiness where we can be together forever._

_-The Mercy Killer,_

_S.G._

I am, truthfully, disturbed by this… I don't know why, and I don't know how, but I am. I don't have any more letters from them, and the ones I have copied have been given back already. I seriously need sleep. Reading this has given me one massive headache beyond everything.

_A few hours later,_

I can't sleep. The note still worries me somehow. I don't know, exactly. I'm scared, I think is the word for it.

Whatever… as the leather bound book of Mother's says, "This too, shall pass."

I continue to write, laying in bed with nothing more than a single candle to light the pages. Mother and Father are up, also. It has to be midnight! They are still out in the family room together? Doing what?

I can hear them singing… it's a long, beautiful song, but the best part is when they harmonize together…

"After all the stops and starts,  
We keep coming back to these two hearts-  
Two angels who've been rescued from the Fall.  
After all that we've been through,  
It all comes down to me and you.  
I guess it's meant to be, forever you and me, after all."

I've seen them dance to it before, embracing so tightly as to be one. Mother will be pressed skin close to Father, whose proportionately massive arms will fold over her shoulder and the small of her back, his claws of that hand curling gently and the only time ever non-lethally against her stomach. Both of their eyes are closed, if they dance now as I've seen them dance before, Father's lips resting gently on the top of Mother's head while he intakes her scent over and over while rocking back and forth with her almost hypnotically.

After several moments of listening to his heart beat in his tattooed chest, Mother will look up into his azure eyes bluer than the noon-day sky and stroke his markings, tracing them ever so gently with her fingers while his own digits trail against her jaw bone, causing a smile to crease her lips. He will whisper lovingly how much she means to him, speaking in that seductive charming voice of his while she begins to blush and turn away. His fingers will then direct her back to face him, and while his hand is where it is, he will lift her up with only three fingers- the strong half Guado he is- and bring her to his height which she is lacking about a foot and a half. While he holds her elevated, and in a way, hostage, he will invade her mouth with his tongue and the two will be trapped like that for ages upon ages until finally returning to their room where all will be quiet, except for the occasional gasp of air, and the next morning they sleep curled up in each other's arms, Mother resting on Father's comparatively large chest with her head against his heart and her hand on his six-pack abs.

The singing is hypnotic… time for sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Yay! Fourth chappie up in a week! I write this for three reasons- 1) I get extra credit for it, 2) Trying to understand this whole "Seymour" deal, and 3) I WANNA! So, yeah... review!

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Diary of a Madman's Son

11/16

Father and Mother are off at the Moonflow tonight. I don't know what they do there, only that ninety-nine percent of the time, Father carries Mother into the house in his arms, her eyes closed with a huge smile on her face. He holds her like a porcelain doll, and with her tiny frame, she looks it. It amazes me how Mother doesn't just crumble and fall to pieces under Father's hold. I think of my old storybook, "Beauty and the Beast," when I think of Mother and Father's relationship. Father is not holding Mother captive by any means other than his "drop dead good looks" and "massive abs tattooed with beautiful engravings," but still, she's the ying of Father's yang, the frail human girl in the claws of the massive towering half-man half-Guado monster. He's very gentle with her, however, having only hurt her one time that I remember.

Mother had been in one of her massive playing crazes and nobody seemed able to get through to her clouded mind. Father could do nothing more than slam his hand across her face and send her small self flying across the room into the couch where she suddenly began to cry. He'd done no more than dislocate her jaw, but that wasn't what made her cry, says she, but Father "breaking the dam that was holding back her emotions."

She's so emotional and scared of everything, it seems. I swear that Father spends almost ninety percent of his time with her just comforting her and assuring her that all would be well. It's okay, though. I don't think he minds, and I'd rather see him whispering gently in her ear, rocking back and forth with his cheek against her forehead than her beautiful face shedding tears. She's too pretty for that.

They've come home now. I can hear Father speaking to that servant of his, getting a report on my behavior. He's heard of my disobedience towards the thing that should have died long ago with my grandfather, no doubt. I don't like him! Of course I'm not going to listen to a word he says, especially not, "Quit writing and go to bed!"

This is MY journal that MY mother and MY father gave to ME to write about what I want to write about WHEN I wish to write about it, and I WANT to write about it NOW, and I will, no matter WHAT!

… Unless Father demands that I blow out my candle PRONTO and get my butt into bed…, which he has. Au revoir, mon ami!


	5. Chapter 5

Wow... really cracking down on us'n's, eh? Now we're not allowed to have in-story review replies! Yeesh! What, is this a publishing company now? Whatever. I can't complain too much. It's free! Beggers can't be choosers, right? oO

Anyho! Hope you enjoy! I think I screwed up the last part really bad, but oh the well.

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Diary of a Madman's Son

11/17

I usually only write at night before I go to bed, but… now I write in the morning, right after my studies of the Teachings. Mother has for now condemned me from the kitchen, that evil, vile woman! I can smell pies… tarts… vegetables smothered in marshmallows… honey glazed ham… what's it all for, though? The surprise Father spoke of yesterday night?

Rah!

I cannot think here… the alluring smells overwhelm me…

Outside, now, where the fiends run rampant, attacking everything that moves… oddly enough, they keep away from me. I am outside the under-tree city of Guadosalam… Mother gooded up the air in that place to no end…

Bah, what is there to write about?

Father has often encountered this problem when writing in his own journal at the dinner table while Mother and I put the plates out. She tells him just to write about what he sees… for that…

I see trees. Lots and lots of trees… there is a tiny song bird chirping at me from his branch, the bright red plume of the Cardinal shining in the noon-time sun flooding from the leaves. Maybe he's griping at me for taking one of the only branches in the forest with full access to the sunlight due to a cavity in the canopy above.

Looking to the right, I see… an old, pointy bearded Ronso? Kwue?

Now I write at night… the preceding went as:

A tiny gasp of surprise escaped my mouth and his ears, ancient, but sharp like his powerful fangs, captured it. He looked to me, a short chuckle escaping his maw. He spoke, deep, wise, and clear.

"Good afternoon, child. Is your father arrived yet?" he asked. I scoffed and looked back to my journal, randomly doodling on the pages to make it look like I was busy.

"Depends who's asking…"

"You're a tad bit rude for to be the son of a Maester… especially one as great as your father," He coughed, insulted. His comment caught my ears.

"How'd you know whose son I was?" I asked, leaning over to look at him.

"You hold your father's image, young Seymour Junior. Now, where is the Lord Maester?" he asked, yet again. I folded my arms and leaned against the tree.

"Nothing doing," was all I said, closing my journal and my eyes.

"Seymour Reiko Guado!" Father's booming bark jolted me so that I almost fell from my perch, my heart racing a mile a minute. He was on the ground on the opposite side of the Ronso, glaring dangerously. "Down here, now!"

His usually unusually high voice was deep- a sign of either annoyance, anger, or in most cases, just trying to make himself heard. Carefully, I slid down and stood a good distance from him to avoid any smacks he may deliver. My feet were interesting now.

"You dare show rudeness to a fellow Maester?" Father demanded, his voice high again, but slow and menacing, interrogational… irritated, I think was also in there. My eyes darted to the Ronso when Father spoke. Now that it was pointed out to me, I did recognize the fancy and elegant garb.

"Sorry, Father…" I muttered, keeping my gaze low.

"Don't apologize to me, son…" he looked over to the Ronso.

"Sorry, Maester… um…" I didn't know the name. He spoke to me his name, then moved forward and patted my head with one giant paw.

"Think nothing of it. You're no more than a child, after all…" this comment was targeted more to Father than me.

"Perhaps," my paternal unit smirked and held his arm out to his side. This gesture I knew well, and in normal, natural response, I ran over and stood between his side and his arm. The hand came to rest on my shoulder and I looked up at him smiling, his own soft, loving gaze looking down at me. "But, he is my child, and any Seymour Reiko Guado Junior is expected to have the same manners as his Seymour Guado Senior."

Kelk Ronso nodded in understanding agreement. I expected us to start back home, but we didn't. Upon inquiring, Father explained coming to our house for lunch, then later, dinner, was the Maesters, all except for Wen Kinoc who had some personal business to attend to tonight. My surprise?

Father and the other Maester spent a while talking together, sitting on the ground with my head on Father's knee until the last old guy arrived, followed by a few of his bodyguards. The two performed the bow, but seeing as how I was assumed to be asleep, I got out of it. Good. I always felt awkward doing it.

(Apparently, I inherited this from Mother, as well as my eyes, nose, allergy to the peel of an apple, and obsession for strawberry cake.)

I heard Father speaking about me to the other Maesters, his fingers running through my hair and his claws scraping my scalp gently. The one known as Mika reached over with a chuckle and tugged gently on my forelock. It caused me to sit strait up, and I surprised myself when I growled shortly. The Maesters laughed, Father's hand patting my shoulder.

"Calm down my son… he didn't mean anything by it," he told me.

"Let's go, now! I'm starving!" Mika said, his old bones creaking as he stood. Father agreed and picked me up into his arms, holding me in the crook of one elbow.

"You helped your mother, did you not?" he asked.

"I did," I promised, "But she did ban me from the kitchen after messing up the first pie…"

Father chuckled and hugged me tightly for a moment.

"I believe you children are too in love for your own good!" Mika laughed when Mother suddenly shot through Guadosalam and jumped into Father's waiting embrace, him twirling her around so much that her habit flapped loudly in the wind created by their movements.

Mother laughed at Maester Mika's comment and shook his hand and the paw of the other.

I've never seen Mother perform the bow so sacred to Yevon. I'd asked father about it a few weeks ago, and he said that Mother wasn't trying to be disrespectful or insulting… she just was too rebellious to do it, refusing to signal it under any circumstances, and the hierarchy of the Church accepted this. She wasn't excommunicated, like most of the world thought and believed. Apparently, she hadn't done anything worth being excommunicated for. She was good friends with all the Maesters, and the mother of ones' son.

(Note: Father even explained to me that she had a very open mind and knew tomes of facts and volumes of myths and series of trials and mass amounts of parables and the like about the Yevon religion, and she was a major asset to the "missionaries" of Yevon. Apparently, she's converted a running 623 people, 23 of which are Al-Bhed. People who wouldn't listen to the Maesters and their sermons would sit and listen to the unbiased speeches of "that atheist 'wedded' to Maester Seymour.")

(Another note: Most of Spira thinks Father married Mother as a political move, those of Spira who actually believes Father married Mother at all, like his father before him. He swears against it with everything that is his being saying that all they say is lies and lies about their love for each other. Father claims to have loved Mother since they were children, her leading him through adventures all over the place, getting him into tons of trouble, though she took all the blame, even if it was his fault. Mother believes him, saying to know him too well to let a lie like that pass unnoticed.)

I write now in the bed with Mother and Father, who is writing in his own journal. He looks odd, missing his fancy Maesters' robes, bows, ties, and such. Mika is asleep in my room and Kelk was reading on the couch when I walked through the front room for water a while ago. I'm here with Father and Mother, as I've said before. Mother sleeps now, and it's a good idea. She's pretty. I'm tired…

_To Reiko: Poor boy; you fell asleep with your book open and pen still clutched in your hand, your head resting gently upon your mother's breasts, just like when you were a young child. You have that habit of hers, to spit when you sleep. You're drooling on her chest, son- that's my job! You speak of your mother's being pretty, but you know not of the understatement of which you speak._

_You will never be able to know it- see it, maybe, but never feel it beneath your hands, the frail fragile skin caving in and shivering to your powerful, yet gentle Guado touch; nor will you hear it call you in that gentle, loving voice such as is that of a Shepard calling forth his fold of sheep that come to his beckon. You will never smell the scent of her beautiful perfume as she walks past you with that seductive little smirk of hers. You will never taste that which is what made you what you are. _

_All this is mine. Perhaps you may experience something related to this with your own Madame in due time, but you will never know what it's like to have the best woman in Spira pulling you to the secrecy of the room and the love that lies within. Never. _

_Son, you will face in your days many things, but no matter what happens, know this- I love you, I love your mother, and nothing EVER will change that. Should anything attempt to take you or her from me, I swear to unleash every bit of energy and rage in my entire being and soul to protect you. I have fought even in death for something I half heartedly believed in- to guard something as precious as the two of you… words can't express it. Only feelings. I love you, my son._

­_Your Father,_

_S. Guado_


	6. Chapter 6

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Diary of a Madman's Son

11/18

I woke up in the bouncy carriage of a chocobo drawn cart, my head being cushioned by Father's chest. The other Maesters were sitting opposite with a new guy… the Wen fellow, I assume. According to Father, whom I've just asked, yes, it was.

Father was taking me to a Blitz ball game he and the others were attending. Um… whoot? I'm not that big a fan of the sport, much like Mother who apparently sought out EVERY reason in the book as to why she should stay home instead of join us.

Nevertheless, Father and I spent the day together. I loved it! Right now, we're in an inn together, the others spread out over the city as a precaution. It's about two hours prior to midnight right now. Mother NEVER lets me stay up this late! Yes, I love Father! He's watching me write, but I don't like people doing that, so I'm sitting against the window, facing him while the cool night air freezes the glass and sends a chill down my back. It's refreshing. He's gone into the shower, now.

After the ball game, Father, the others, and I had lunch. Mother cooks darn good food, but this stuff was the best thing I'd ever put in my mouth at any time in my life! When Father heard me say this, he said: "And that's saying something, considering you fed off your mother for eight months!"

On a note more meant for virginity…

I never knew how famous I was, or infamous, until I walked holding Father's hand through the town while he was showing me around this new place. Everyone was whispering about "Lord Seymour's Son," and "The boy born of a Maester before a proper marriage."

Father took offense at the last comment and turned on the speaker, parting the crowd (much like the story of a guy named Moses and the parting of a Red Sea in Egypt in mother's leather bound storybook) strait down to the awkward woman standing infront of him, gazing up at his six feet of height.

"You are one rude woman, madam…" was all he said, his eyes glared down into slits. He picked me up into one arm and pointed the opposing finger towards me. "This boy was not born out of wedlock; he is a legitimate child of my lovely, lawfully and religiously wedded wife and me, and an honorable heir to my throne."

Here, he turned to the rest of the crowd, using his "Crowd Voice" as my mother called it.

"Seymour Reiko Guado Junior's honor is such as that of royalty- the son of a Maester's son whom now also reigns in that stead. One day, if my boy chooses, he will also fill the shoes left for him, ruling as your religious leader," he told them.

"The boy's mother is an atheist!" The woman's dirty finger shoved itself in my face, only to be jerked away by father's giant hand and crushed like a grape.

"His mother," his voice was deep and menacing, (much like the one he uses when he plays around with Mother, using his all famous, "Death awaits you!" saying when he's winning a pillow fight) as he threw her back against the wall of bodies created by the gathering crowd. "has her own mind, and it is made up by no man, woman, or child but herself! She doesn't follow traditions she doesn't like, she doesn't believe in religions she finds fault with, and she doesn't follow flocks of brainless gaggling geese if she doesn't understand what's being followed, unlike the lot of you who only do as the other Maesters and I say to do. Flattering, very, sickening, definitely! If any of you have a problem with my love, come to me, and I will PERSONALLY change your mind!" he challenged, then set me down on the ground.

Scared out of my wits, I ran to the other Maesters and tried to hide behind them. Wen and the Ronso pulled Father from the flock of people and spoke to him softly, trying to calm him down. Mika took it upon himself to comfort me. His gently spoken words weren't much than, "It will be alright, child," but the old man's presence seemed enough to quell my fears of my own father, whose eyes still blazed with a deep internal fire and Guado fangs still bared with curses towards those opposing Mother.

Sigh… sigh again… once more, just for luck…

Father's left the water running for me. Until next time…

--R.G.


	7. Chapter 7

Diary of a Madman's Son

11/19

We arrived in Guadosalam rather late tonight. We had carriage trouble, then one of the Chocobo's got colic in the middle of the day. How that worked out, I have no clue. Other than this, the travel was kind of slow and boring. Rather uneventful… oh, a fiend tried to attack us, but when it jumped out infront of us going full speed, Trommel couldn't stop the carriage in time and we ran over it. All's well that ends well, right?

Mother was up waiting for us, pacing a hole in the carpet. When we arrived, she lunged from the doors of our house and latched to Father's neck before dropping to me and covering me in kisses, smoothing my hair, and flooding my ears with praises and worries.

The other Maesters have departed already… Mother is looking a bit on the chubby side… then again, so is Father… and me, for that matter… maybe we all need a diet…

I'm way tired tonight, and don't really feel like writing. I will tomorrow, maybe. Until later…

--R.G.


	8. Chapter 8

Diary of a Madman's Son

11/20

Mother slept in today, and Father woke me up around ten in the morning by flipping my bed over on me. That was fun… not. He told me she woke up sick, so he forcefully ordered her to bed again, especially after she threw up when making breakfast.

"The temple can function with out me," he said when I asked about him going to work. "My family comes before anything."

For breakfast, he slopped a big scoop of half-frozen chunky ice cream in a bowl and mixed it up with some cream and strawberries and chocolate chips! I love when Father cooks!

Around noon, Mother woke, claiming to feel much better, though Father only allowed her to lie on the couch while Trommel, Father, and myself tended to her every need, which for me was nothing more than lay with her because she was bored just sitting there. She told me random little stories about her and Father as children growing up together, embarrassing ones!

Like, she told me of a time when Father and her were playing hide-and-seek at the Moonflow. Grandfather and Grandmother kept bugging them, so they gradually ran farther down the bank until Father climbed into a sleeping Shoopuf's carriage and hid there. Mother found out about it and had to cover for Father for three hours until the creature was rested enough to make another trip, where Father again had to hide under the seat. Apparently, he was found when he got out. His foot was stuck in the door, but thankfully, the Summoner who was traveling saw him and he and his guardians helped him get free, and also paid for the little "twerp" as she called him.

Anyhow, after that, she fell asleep. I think we were both bored to death.

"Master Reiko," Trommel smiled and patted my shoulder, "I have a strong suspicion you'll be passing hand-me-downs here in a bit!" Father smiled widely when he heard this, his eyes closed in happiness, though I was confused. I still am.

Later that night, I heard the parents speaking to each other from their room. My door was open and theirs was too, apparently, since I could hear them all the way upstairs:

"Finally… after five years of trying and doing nothing but failing… another little one for you to fondle all day long!" Mother was giggling.

"Our last one, though," Father replied.

"…what? Why?" she asked, seemingly shocked and confused.

"I only have two arms and one lap to never let them down with!" He said, laughing gently. Mother joined in.

"Oh, you old teddy bear! They have to get out of your glomps eventually!"

Father chuckled and there was the sound of their kissing.

"I'm going for a drink. Need anything my love?" Mother asked.

"Even if I did, you're getting noting and going nowhere! I am your servant for the next four months!" Father's side of the bed squeaked when he stood… or was he sitting? From the context of the speech, I assume he's standing.

"Seymour, you're my servant for the rest of your life! At least, that's what this ring says, anyways!"

Knowing Father and his elegant ways, he would now be folding an arm across his abdomen and bowing over it.

"Mmm. Yes. That is so, milady."

"You know you can't do everything for me!"

"Oh, yes, I can."

"Shut up! I'm not done talking! Four months of just sitting around and telling you to get me stuff will not only make me feel bad, but will also deplete my ability to walk!"

"Then I shall carry you everywhere, love!"

"I don't think you could find time for that, Maester Seymour!"

"Airella, I was your best friend before I was even ready to start studying for becoming what I am. You come first, you crazy little atheist of mine!"

"Oh, whatever. I'm going for water… Ah! Seymour Guado! Put me down!"

Mother was screaming and giggling at the same time.

"Don't wake the whole town, Airella!" Father warned, carrying her out of the room.

"I seriously doubt anyone heard me! Besides our son, any how!" she pointed at me as I stared over the balcony at them.

"Oh… hey, Mother… Father…" I greeted sheepishly.

"Bed. Now." Father commanded.

"Yes, sir… good night Father. Good night Mother," I nodded and retreated through my doors.

"Good night son. I love you!" Father called. Mother repeated the last part after him, and then they giggled their way to the kitchen.

What do they mean by, "Another little one?"

Ah, well. I am to obey Seymour Senior like a child before his homicidal father.

--R.G.


	9. Chapter 9

Diary of a Madman's Son

2/6

It's the new year, now. I know I haven't written in a long long long time. Blame it on Mother. Father's been going to work extremely early and coming home extremely late, so I've had to help Trommel take care of Mother, who has become so sick that she can barely walk farther than the bathroom where she usually just throws up and returns to bed, moaning and groaning.

Strange… she hasn't eaten in what seems like forever, but she has become much more fat since last time I wrote. She has this funny walk, too… kinda like a waddle. Father takes her to a doctor every couple weeks. Maybe they are still trying to find out what's wrong with her.

I remember one time, I had a cat that got heart worms and was throwing up all over the place and it got real fat because of them piling up in its stomach. Maybe Mother has heartworms? I hope not. We had to kill the cat because of them. I think I would cry if we killed mother…

Mother's been in immense pain. Hers and Father's room has been silent lately at night, except for the occasional retch of Mother's throwing up.


	10. Chapter 10

Diary of a Madman's Son

2/7

Seymour Reiko Guado is no longer an only child! I'm all happy spunky! Father is crazy joyful, though.

Mother was screaming last night when I was writing in my journal. She was "in labor" as Trommel told me, for over fifteen hours! Father was out in the front room with me, his servant trying to hold him back from breaking the doors down. Poor old guy almost lost his throat to Father's anger. Eventually, though, Father hung his head and began to cry, every now and then attempting to break free from Trommel's grasp, though he couldn't.

"Airella! Airella!" He kept screaming, trying to get to her. He as finally forced to sit down, though he lunged up at every sound that came from his and Mother's room.

Few times, Father scares me, but today, both Mother and Father scared me to no end. The tears were welling at the sound of Mother crying like she was, but they were flooding down at my cheeks to see Father's own tears cascading down his face.

I don't think it's the first time I've seen it, but it's the first time I've noticed it… Guado cry, they tear little droplets of blood. Then again, I've never seen other Guado cry blood… then again; I've never seen other Guado cry… Mother's not Guado, although she does cry a lot. Maybe it's just a health defect with Father, or something inherited from his decades of endured turmoil as a child.

Finally, just as Father was settled down, there was a loud scream of Mother, followed by the tiny crying of a tiny child. In an instant, Father crashed through the doors of the room, scaring the mid wife half to death and causing the crying to heighten in loudness. I followed him in where lying next to Mother underneath a blood soaked sheet was two little babies, already armed with their little Guado claws and little Guado fangs, both having a little bit of blue fluff on the tops of their heads. One was crying loudly while the other was just moving around.

"Lord Seymour Guado and Airella Guado, Mrs. Lord Seymour, have now been blessed with three children: their oldest, Seymour Reiko Guado Junior, and two twins, Sergio Guado and Megalla Guado!" is what was spread around Spira practically overnight.

We have so many neighbors and people from all the way over to Kilika bringing us food so Mother doesn't have to worry about cooking so she can, "Stay off her feet and take care of those tiny monsters!" My little siblings? Monsters? Yeah.

Mother's second best friend ever (the girl whose family Grandfather sent Mother to live with when he separated her and Father), a gothic chick named… "Paine?" Yeah… clichéd… Anyhow, she came over with her two friends, some blonde-haired woman and some brown-haired woman, both equally stupid and lacking in the brain department.

They got here at five in the morning. Paine changed the bloodstained sheets of the bed while Yuna, the brunette, and Rikku, the blonde, washed off the twins and put diapers on them, then began to dress them up as if they were fashion dolls.

Once the bed was changed, Paine crawled up into it with Mother and began talking together about everything and nothing at all. Yuna and Rikku began to cook breakfast for those of us who were going to be up at six… yeah, right… I think we'll all sleep in until at least noon now… at least I will. Anyone who wakes me up then is LUNCH!

Father took the babies with him to give the girls time to speak alone. He had the biggest smile I've ever seen when Megalla was sucking on his finger while Sergio slept on his lap. It was cute. I'm dead. I'm sleeping. Until later…

--R.G. Big brother now!


	11. Chapter 11

Diary of a Madman's Son

2/8

Meg. Will. Not. Stop. CRYING!

No matter how many times Mother holds her to her breasts, nor no matter how many times Father holds her tightly to his chest, Paine walks her outside, Yuna summons the demon of fire to warm her up (which, by the way the mutt seemed all scary and frightful at first, until Mother found a tiny spot behind his left ear which sent him into epileptic seizures of leg-kicking, panting, and even howling…), or Rikku uses a sparkly object to entertain her! She just won't stop crying! She makes me want to stuff her in a pillow case and smash her against the ground until she stops!

I told this urge to Father. I still have large, opened and bleeding wounds from our fight yesterday when his wrath of anger was let loose upon me. Father alone, with his strong, powerful physical and magic attacks is strong enough as it is- I have a hell of a time surviving his onslaughts when I actually anger him enough to receive one, but I was out all day after seeing some huge, chained beast breaking from its shackles and beating my face in. Mother did nothing to nurse my wounds when she heard what I said. The only one who showed any compassion whatsoever was Rikku, who apparently had an annoying sibling she wished she could beat to death, though, as she lectured me on while wrapping my bigger wounds, she would do no such thing because he was her brother and she loved him.

It seems Trommel has found something to keep the screaming brat temporarily quieted… she seems to enjoy staring at Grandfather's portrait… she just giggles and rubs the delicate oil-on-canvas picture before clapping and kicking her feet happily. Sergio is quiet, except for his grunts of anger and sadness when Lady Yuna's boyfriend's blitzball rolls out of his grasp, though the blonde boy just laughs with a smile and kicks it back to him. He sometimes knocks my little brother over with the force, but Sergio just lets out a loud "growling" bark and pushes himself up again to wobble on his bottom.

Mother is complaining about the little ones growing up so quickly and that I was a lot faster than them, though they were twins and knowing Mother's body, not formed correctly since there were two of them at the same time instead of just one.

I sat in bed with Mother and Father all day, listening to them tell me stories of their childhood. Today is their fifteenth anniversary.

Compelled to seek out others and get their sides of the stories, I've asked Paine, Trommel, other Guado, and even my parents directly to further elaborate on certain topics and points. I've compiled a little Biography of them…


End file.
